


Bodyguard

by Nenalata



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, Flirting, Male My Unit | Byleth, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sexy sexy paperwork, Steamy in the Shadows at some point, everything I write is about paperwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:34:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24231445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nenalata/pseuds/Nenalata
Summary: “You’re getting better at sensing me. You hardly reacted at all.”This was untrue. Everything Shamir did made Bylethreact,even when he knew she was there.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Shamir Nevrand
Comments: 6
Kudos: 61
Collections: Honest Reasons to Fight





	Bodyguard

**Author's Note:**

> It's 3am. I just want the tag to be bigger and I want Shamir&Byleth to have furtive sex in the cathedral. It'll happen at some point. Take it. Take it and begone.
> 
> I'm [NenalataWrites](https://twitter.com/NenalataWrites) on twitter and I'm not very friendly. Come say hi!

“You’re up late.”

Byleth’s fingers twitched. He raised his head from where he sat hunched over the stack of papers. “Evening, Shamir.”

Shamir smirked and came around the side of his desk. She flicked her gaze to his hip where the hilt of his dagger rested. The dagger he’d managed not to draw. “You’re getting better at sensing me. You hardly reacted at all.”

This was untrue. Everything Shamir did made Byleth _react_ , even when he knew she was there.

“I appreciate the praise,” was all he said. “Are you working tonight?”

“I was. Not as hard as you, though.” She peered over his shoulder. “What’s this?” Byleth probably should have been more concerned about letting his partner read official church documents intended for the Archbishop’s eyes only. But the captain of the Knights of Seiros certainly deserved it, didn’t she?

What Seteth didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“I don’t know,” Byleth admitted in answer to her question. “I’m certain you know I’ve been sitting and staring here for hours. This isn’t…work I’m accustomed to.”

“True.” Even though he knew it, hearing it from Shamir herself still kind of stung. But then she rubbed his shoulder with a gesture that might be perceived even to an outsider as ‘affectionate’ and added, “But you weren’t exactly ‘accustomed’ to teaching when Rhea made you a professor, and your students turned out fine.”

“Why, Shamir,” Byleth twisted in his chair to smile at her properly, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were flattering me.”

Her hand withdrew like he’d bitten it. That didn’t seem to be the mood for tonight, apparently. “I’m not and you know it,” she scoffed, but she blushed while she spoke anyway. Byleth fought back a bigger smile. “It’s the truth. You say so all the time.”

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Shamir heard the unspoken request and carded her fingers through his hair, nails raking his scalp in tiny, precise little scrapes.

They didn’t talk enough, maybe. Not compared to their friends, the other couples who had formed shortly after the war. But even if Byleth couldn’t always sense when Shamir melted out of the shadows of the monastery, even if Shamir couldn’t and would never hear the last ghostly whispers of Sothis’s voice sometimes still echoing in his mind …

At least they understood when they wanted to hold hands.

To touch, talk, stay silent, fight, protect.

To touch.

“You’re still wearing gloves,” Byleth noted after Shamir’s motions through the locks of his hair relaxed into a regular and soothing rhythm.

“Ever the perceptive tactician.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

“The Archbishop’s bodyguard should probably spend more time _guarding_ him than _touching_ him,” Byleth said. For half a second, he worried the teasing tone he’d been practicing hadn’t come across, that she’d stop and vanish again. But then—

“Eh, I’m just doing my job. Watching his back and all.” As if to prove her point, Shamir _tugged_ his hair, startling a hiss from his voice, and raked her short nails down his spine.

“This isn’t a lot of _watching_ ,” Byleth kept his voice steady, so he’d thought, but Shamir leaned close and snickered just behind his ear. Her warm breath sent more shivers rushing up his back.

“Hands-on approach,” Shamir _purred_ , and Byleth bit back another potentially embarrassing, certainly needy oath. “New training exercise.”

“I see. You’ve been spending too much time with Alois, if you’re making jokes like that. Or with me, actually.”

Shamir snorted and pulled away, and Byleth’s traitorous body leaned back, following. “You certainly know how to ruin a moment.”

“Sorry.” He was not sorry at all and she knew it, judging by the way she tugged his hair again. “Didn’t realize we were having one.”

“Not anymore.”

“Ah. Then I guess back to work for us both.”

“Right. Back on the job.”

Byleth returned to the documents, struggling to understand religious history and ecclesial terminology he’d never had cause to learn. The five years Sothis had taken away hadn’t helped him understand the Church almost any more than the one year he’d spent within its walls; now, as newly-named Archbishop and close confidant of the King of the _Holy_ Kingdom of Faerghus, Byleth felt more eyes on him than ever before.

Shamir’s watchful gaze directly behind him was only one pair. Far more appreciated and far more _appreciative_ , to be sure. But just as helpful to his ability to get any meaningful work done tonight.

“I’m going to be up later with you watching me like that,” Byleth informed the shadows, shuffling the papers around like he was being even remotely productive.

“Am I distracting you?” the shadows replied, all smugness and _tease_.

“Extremely.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to train more,” Shamir said. Her voice already sounded distant, like she was departing through some exit Byleth didn’t remember his office having. He resisted the intense, suddenly suffocating urge to turn around. “Can’t have someone getting the jump on the Archbishop if he always knows where his _bodyguard_ is, can we?”

Shamir was gone before Byleth could give in to that painful temptation. He couldn’t sense her at all, not a single prickle of an ever-watchful, ever-sensual gaze raking his solitary form. He couldn’t, however, bring himself to release a disappointed sigh.

What if the room wasn’t really empty after all?


End file.
